


Chastity is a State of Mind

by Sir_Thopas



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Humor, Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 11:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17099594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Thopas/pseuds/Sir_Thopas
Summary: Sebastian swears that he has remained faithful in his vows. But sometimes the rules must be bent a little. And, besides, he’s sure the Maker will understand. The man is a Grey Warden, after all, and Sebastian doubts even Andraste could resist a Warden.





	Chastity is a State of Mind

Nathaniel had never possessed a beautiful face. An overly large nose, a sharp chin, and a tight, thinly-pressed mouth looked starkly back at Sebastian, but the prince thought he had grown into his features in the intervening years. Perhaps it was the sharp cut of his jaw that brought these clashing parts together, or the newly formed lines that worried across his brow that did it. More likely, it was the Grey Warden uniform. Sebastian had never been able to resist a well-dressed man. And to think, he might have wed this man in another life.

“Crawling through blight-infested tunnels, rescuing Wardens in peril. This is what I signed on for.”

He thought he had only murmured those words, but the twitch from Hawke suggested he was louder than he meant to be. Nathaniel said nothing, just let his eyes slide over Sebastian as if he had never seen the man before in his life. That hurt, more than it should. “We should move. Stay alert for darkspawn.”

Sebastian followed Nathaniel’s lead quickly, scurrying around boulders and rubble as he kept his eye trained on the scout in front. Hawke kept pace with him, glancing back and forth between the two archers with an ever-increasing scowl on his face. He hissed at him, his voice low to keep Nathaniel from overhearing. “This isn’t going to be like that thing with Janeka, is it? Or my brother? Or…” Hawke looked like he had swallowed an entire lemon whole as the memories that had seared into his brain refused to leave him be. “Or that thing with Janeka and my brother?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Hawke. I have made a vow to take no lover but Andraste.”

“… See, that just makes everything worse. I don’t want to think about you and my brother, together, and I definitely don’t want to think about Andraste playing a role in any of that.”

“You must be mistaken.”

“We were camping! Your tent was five feet from me! What could I have possibly mistaken it for? A massage? A rousing game of play-wrestling? Horrifying hand puppetry?”

Sebastian could feel his neck and face grow hot, but kept his eyes stonily ahead. “I am but an innocent servant of the Maker. If the Grey Wardens feel the need to call upon me to aid them, who am I to refuse whatever the cost? Their ways are mysterious and should not be questioned.”

“Completely innocent. Just a helpless lamb. Say, you’ve been staring at Howe’s ass for a while now. Think any darkspawn are going to come popping out of it?”

Hawke had been blessed with the terrible gift of perfect timing. Right at that moment, Nathaniel spotted one of his companions– a dwarf, surrounded by darkspawn.

Sebastian tried to keep his focus. He really did. But Nathaniel had changed so much and the way his muscles moved beneath his armor snagged his attention. It wasn’t long before he was boxed in by the darkspawn. Hawke sent waves of ice to quell their numbers and Nathaniel dropped his bow in favor of his knives to flit and dart between them, cutting throats and giving Sebastian enough time to scramble up a ruined column to gain the distance he needed to properly notch his bow. He did not let his eyes linger on Nathaniel more than was necessary. It is just… he had changed so much. And after the battle, when Nathaniel’s eyes stared through him like they could be no better strangers, something reached in and shook Sebastian at his core. He was so used to those eyes staring at him with longing that to see it absent upset his whole balance.

Sebastian has always had a problem with wanting things out of his reach. He wanted the throne, then he wanted the Chantry, then he wanted the throne and the Chantry, and then he just wanted to chase Hawke around on his stupid, funny adventures, and now he wants Nathaniel when he had never wanted him before.

* * *

Sebastian Vael was the most beautiful person Nathaniel had ever seen. He had been terrified when his father sent him to Starkhaven with the weight of a betrothal bearing down on his back. A claim to royalty in exchange for exclusive rights to Amaranthine’s port. Plus, no natural children to threaten their respective fathers’ heirs, which was really just the cherry on top. Nathaniel had been worried that Sebastian would prove to be ugly or boring or something equally horrid, but when he sauntered out of the royal palace wearing a loose tunic over soft trousers and a lazy, sated grin, Nathaniel almost fell off his horse.

“You do look like a somber fellow,” Sebastian had laughed. “No wonder my father agreed to this farce.”

But a beautiful face hid many faults. Nathaniel hadn’t cared. Sebastian could slip his left arm around the waist of anyone he wanted, so long as Nathaniel got to keep his right arm. But Sebastian never spared him so much as a glance in those days, except to take delight in the red, hot jealousy that burned Nathaniel’s cheeks.

So, it was almost disconcerting when he realized that Sebastian couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

“That was amazing,” Sebastian gushed. “You’ve come so far since your days training with Ser Varley.”

Nathaniel turned away, unsure of what to think of this unexpected praise from Sebastian. “The darkspawn don’t leave room for many mistakes.”

Sebastian had shined then, his eyes glittering and hot and Nathaniel almost jumped when he recognized it. He had seen it so often in Starkhaven, but not for him, never for him. It left him feeling almost drunk to realize that after all this time Sebastian finally wanted him.

Perhaps it was time for a little payback.

* * *

Hawke was starting to wish he had let the Arishok just run him through with that big sword. At least he’d have been spared from… this.

“Oh, it seems I’ve dropped my bow.”

“I’ll get it for you!”

Hawke eyed a particularly large stalagmite. Maybe he should brain himself right here and now. Anything to save himself from what he was being forced to witness. Sebastian panting after Nathaniel, Nathaniel doing everything he could to string Sebastian along. It was painful. This was worse than trying to hook up Aveline and Donnic.

Sebastian turned to look at him, all glow-y smiles and shining white armor. Frankly, the torches were a waste of space with him here. “I’ve never felt safer than with Nathaniel here. Do you know he can sense the darkspawn? Apparently, Grey Wardens–”

Ah, and now Hawke would have to listen to another lecture on Grey Wardens while Nathaniel strode ahead with a little saunter and pretended he wasn’t hanging on to every word Sebastian said. He almost wished they would have sex, just to get it over with. Then Sebastian could move on to the next Grey Warden and Nathaniel could go back to… wherever it was he came from. Hawke didn’t know, or care, so long as it was away from him.

“I could have married him,” Sebastian sighed so softly that Hawke almost missed it.

He sounded wistful and dread began to build up in Hawke’s stomach at the sound of it. He only got like that when he talked about Starkhaven and the Chantry. Sebastian couldn’t be serious about this guy. He just couldn’t. He was a somewhat-chaste priest! Or a prince! Or something! Something that definitely did not involve a Grey Warden as a permanent fixture in his bed. Hawke took a few deep breaths. There was nothing to worry about. Sebastian would forget all about Nathaniel just as soon as something else snagged his attention.

And then he appeared in Hawke’s tent two days from the surface.

“I need your advice.”

“Andraste save me,” Hawke breathed before turning to look at Sebastian. “Don’t have sex in the Deep Roads. You’ll catch the Blight. That’s my advice. Now go back to your tent.”

“Hawke! I’m having a serious spiritual crisis!”

Hawke rolled his eyes. Sebastian was always having a spiritual crisis. “Please. I’m on to you. One day you’re all, ‘Oh, Isabela, these vulgar things you say!’” Hawke cooed, pressing his hand against his forehead in a false swoon. “'I’m getting the vapors!’ And then the next day I catch you with your head buried underneath a woman’s skirt.”

“That’s not fair. Lady Amalia is a grieving widow and I was offering her spiritual counseling.”

Hawke threw up his hands. “Out of all of us, you were the one that wasn’t supposed to be getting laid! Not me! I’m the Maker-damned Champion of Kirkwall and I can’t get so much as a date! I can’t even commiserate with Aveline anymore now that she’s got Donnic. Every time I pass by her office all I hear is 'Clang! Clang! Clang!’ They could at least have the decency to take off their armor so they don’t broadcast their quickies to the entire Keep!”

“Well, I mean, the guard’s uniform is rather nice, if a bit sharp–”

“I haven’t had sex since Lothering! If I have to listen to you having another 'spiritual crisis’ with that Grey Warden–”

“You know, Hawke,” Sebastian interrupted. “This really sounds like it’s bothering you. I am a priest and I am always here if you need to talk. It doesn’t have to be in the Chantry, if that makes you uncomfortable.”

Hawke shot him a withering glare. “Uh-huh. And would this 'talk’ include a hand-job perchance?”

“… Do you want it to?”

“Get out of my tent.”

* * *

Sebastian felt so many things when he looked at Nathaniel. Lust, yes. But also guilt and nostalgia and a need to connect with someone he remembered before the Chantry, now that he had lost all the others who had known him to one woman’s mad betrayal. Maker, he wanted to keep him and wasn’t that a terrible idea. Hawke and Merrill and Isabela were bad enough, now he wanted a lover – a permanent lover – as well? The things Elthina would say. But why shouldn’t he? Even the Maker has a family, a bride, and children. And the Maker has a throne. Why can’t he have everything he ever wanted?

Nathaniel studiously looked away and Sebastian’s heart clenched inside his chest. Because Nathaniel didn’t want him. Sebastian wanted him, but he didn’t want him back. The Maker has a sense of humor. To think Sebastian had once turned his nose at this gift the Maker had sent him.

Well, he might not always live up to the vows he swore, but he could at least strive to be a better man. Even if Nathaniel didn’t want him, it was high time Sebastian apologized for the way he treated him all those years ago.

Sebastian slipped out of his tent. They’d reach the surface by tomorrow. If he was going to do it, he needed to do it tonight.

"Nathaniel?” Sebastian called softly. “Can I speak with you?”

No sound emanated from the third tent and Sebastian almost turned around to crawl back into his blanket, shame-faced and with his tail between his legs, when he heard Nathaniel reply in a voice that sounded strangely strangled and breathless. “Yes, yes, of course.”

Sebastian entered, unable to properly face the other man. He wondered what Nathaniel’s face must look like to see him there. He couldn’t bear to look up to find out.

“I know…” Sebastian stopped and swallowed thickly, his eyes rooted to the ground from where he kneeled like a supplicant before Andraste. “I know you must hate me. I was… a stupid child who hurt you because I thought you were just another one of my father’s punishments. I never bothered to get to know you. I am so sorry and… I just wanted to say that. If–”

Nathaniel’s mouth was suddenly pressed against his lips, his nose bumping into his as their teeth clashed. Their lack of finesse only spurred them on, the ferocity increasing as they clutched at one another, their hands scrambling across their armor, Sebastian’s fingers tangled in the long, black strands of Nathaniel’s hair. He was suddenly yanked forward as Nathaniel jerked on the leather buckles that kept his breastplate fixed to his chest. It loosened, the pressure lifting so quickly that Sebastian gasped at the sudden lightness as it fell it away. It made him feel almost dizzy. Sebastian pulled back as he regained control, his thoughts slowing down as he caught up to what was happening around him.

“I’m sorry, I need to pray,” Sebastian gasped and scrambled from Nathaniel’s lap– and how had he ended up there? He felt Nathaniel’s hands dragging across his hips as he slipped away, leaving the Warden to blink owlishly at the sudden empty space that Sebastian had once filled, his arms still outstretched.

Sebastian stumbled outside, the still, cavern air freezing the sheen of sweat that pricked his skin. He made it a few steps away from Nathaniel’s tent before dropping to his knees. “Dear Maker, it’s me. Sebastian. I just wanted to say that I don’t think it’s really fair that You keep tempting me like this. I had gone my entire life without seeing a Grey Warden and now they’re everywhere! Anders I can deal with. He doesn’t even have the uniform anymore! I know, I’ve asked. But the others… Janeka assured me that sex was an important component to her ritual. Blood magic might be the bigger concern of the two sins I committed there, but it was for a good cause! And as for Carver, well… he had been so sad and I know what it’s like to be the overshadowed younger brother. I just wanted to offer him a bit of comfort in any small way that I could…. I probably shouldn’t have given Warden Alistair a blowjob in the middle of the Qunari invasion, I’ll admit… I know I have made vows in the past, but technically they’re no longer valid since Elthina won’t let me re-join the Chantry and, anyway, I’ve been very good for a long time now, so one or two indiscretions shouldn’t account for much, I would think. Besides, the marriage contract came before I took holy orders, so my vows to You are null and void anyway. You took a Bride for Yourself, so I don’t know why Your servants must remain celibate. Wouldn’t it be better to emulate Your glory by taking lovers ourselves?” Sebastian smiled beatifically up at the rocky ceiling. “I feel much better now that we’ve talked. I’m going to go into Nathaniel’s tent and ride his cock now, thanks.”

“Holy Andraste, what did I do to deserve this?” Hawke’s plaintive cry rose muffled from the other tent.

Sebastian crawled back inside Nathaniel’s tent, fixing on the adorably confused look that marred his face. The Warden opened his mouth to speak but Sebastian didn’t give him a chance. He pressed forward, seizing his lips in a kiss more artful than their last. His hands plucked at his tunic, wrenching at the studded high collar that hid Nathaniel’s neck. He pressed kisses down the trailing line of skin, his cheek rubbing raw against the stubble as Sebastian slid down to bury his face in the hollow of Nathaniel’s throat. He let himself breathe in the musky scent, letting it wash over him. Nathaniel pressed on in his quest to remove their clothing as quickly as possible. Sebastian let him, let him pull off his mail, his coat, unlace his breeches. He’d have to get up if he wanted Nathaniel to get any farther, but Sebastian was feeling far too lazy to do that. Instead he slid down so, pressing random kisses here and there as he dragged his face toward Nathaniel’s crotch.

Seeing the tent in his trousers sent a rush of adrenaline flooding through him and he tore at the laces, tugging at them until he could pull out Nathaniel’s cock, already hard and a glistening with oil. A shock of lightning struck through him as he realized Nathaniel must have been touching himself before Sebastian came. Did he think about Sebastian as he squeezed his cock, imagining it was his mouth, his thighs, his ass that gripped him. Did he envision Sebastian kneeling as he was now, breathing hot and hard over his cock? And where did he stash that oil? Sebastian didn’t give himself much time to wonder, but rushed forward, sucking at the head as he pushed down, a little further down, just a little more, in ever increasing increments, before pulling up slowly. Very slowly. And then down again, fast this time, so that Nathaniel shouted and grabbed his hair to keep him where he wanted.

Nathaniel thrust twice and before Sebastian could capture his hips and press him down, force him to feel the long, drawn-out torture he had wanted to inflict on the Warden, Nathaniel thrust a third time and came down Sebastian’s throat, his hand tight in his hair but not pulling. He must have already been close by the time Sebastian came into his tent. Sebastian didn’t care. He swallowed around him, his mouth and throat fluttering around the cock buried deep and then suddenly he was pulled off, the hand in his hair loosening to cradle his head gently as he was laid on his back. As gentle as Nathaniel was with his body, he showed less care to Sebastian’s clothes. He tore at his trousers, pulling and tearing until the body lay bared beneath him. He didn’t bother with his own clothes and Sebastian couldn’t help but approve as his eyes ran over the crooked and disheveled uniform, stealing peeks of Nathaniel’s cock from where it lay wet and sticky half-hidden beneath his tunic.

Nathaniel gripped his knees and Sebastian let his legs fall easily open. Nathaniel was like a wild man as he descended upon the prince, sucking, and stroking, pulling, and tugging. He kept his eyes trained on Sebastian’s face as he went down, his face framed by two brown thighs, and the prince had to throw his arm over his face to hide from the intensity of his stare.

Sebastian shuddered as Nathaniel went down hard and deep, nearly screaming when his hands had finished mapping the contours of his thighs to sink lower, grasping at his ass to pull him open. There was a sudden shock of cold as Nathaniel tore his mouth away his cock to scramble up his body, nearly folding Sebastian in half so that Nathaniel could reach up and wrench down his arm. Sebastian stared up at the looming man rocking against him, his spent cock sliding between his cleft in imitation of a proper mounting. There was a promise there: next time, next time, I will take you just like this, I will hold you open and force myself between your legs, furrow hard and deep until I have made you mine. There was a hand between them and pleasure raced through his veins, hot and explosive. Sebastian blearily thought about the fit Hawke would throw when he saw the stains on Nathaniel’s uniform in the morning, but couldn’t be bothered to care when Nathaniel was holding him so nice and sweetly.

Sebastian let himself drift somewhere between sleep and wakefulness when he heard Nathaniel say, “I don’t know about priests, but Grey Wardens aren’t forbidden from marrying.”

“I was thinking of re-taking the throne anyway.”


End file.
